


the stars will fall from the sky, and the heavenly bodies will be shaken

by ShowMeAHero



Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Prayer, Tragedy, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-08
Updated: 2015-06-08
Packaged: 2018-04-03 11:08:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4098787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShowMeAHero/pseuds/ShowMeAHero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Foggy is a martyr. Matt is the one left behind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the stars will fall from the sky, and the heavenly bodies will be shaken

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from Matthew 24:29.
> 
> Sorry about what you're about to read and how you're going to feel afterwards.

Matt liked going over to Foggy’s place more than he liked going to his own place, most of the time. He had started to think of Foggy’s apartment as home more than he thought that about his own place; his apartment felt so cold a lot of the time, Spartan and empty, the billboard constantly buzzing in his ears. Foggy’s place, on the other hand, was so much warmer, much more cluttered, soft furniture and actual food in the kitchen, music and voices surrounding them instead of a low, unending ringing.

Foggy liked having him over, too. He straightened everything up, even though Matt was more than used to how Foggy lived after being his roommate for years. He made sure everything was in the same spot every time Matt was there, even though he knew Matt did not really need it, but that it just made things much easier for him. It felt more like home than anything had since he and Foggy had stopped living together, to be honest.

On that particular night, he had cut out early from being Daredevil, since Hell’s Kitchen was relatively quiet crime-wise, for once. It had been kind of chaotic lately, with Vanessa Fisk causing mayhem all over the place in Wilson Fisk’s stead, and generally keeping Matt out until all hours. Foggy took it like a champ, bringing him coffee in the morning, patching him up at dawn. Matt wanted to surprise him by showing up without a gash or tumbling in at night and breaking Foggy’s window.

Matt had a bag of takeout Thai food held tight in one hand, the other hand still gripping his cane as he made his way down the empty street towards Foggy’s apartment building. He could pick out Foggy’s heartbeat from almost anywhere, and it was starting to get clearer and clearer the closer Matt got, and he realized it was a little off, a little different than usual. He slowed, cocking his head to the side as he came to a stop and listened. Sure enough, something was wrong with Foggy’s heartbeat. Without warning, Foggy’s heartbeat abruptly spiked, and Matt took off at a run, abandoning any pretense of relying on his cane. He slammed on the doorbells for every apartment in Foggy’s building until the buzzing annoyed someone enough that they just let him in.

He flew up the stairs, forgoing the elevator to sprint the four stories to Foggy’s level. He could hear someone talking in a low voice that he vaguely recognized in his terrified, angry haze. There were five heartbeats in Foggy’s apartment, not counting Foggy’s, which could only be described now as erratic at best. Matt jammed his hand into his pocket, digging around for Foggy’s key; he unlocked the door and threw it open, letting it slam into the wall. He dropped his cane and the bag of takeout food in the entryway.

“Matt, get out-” Foggy’s voice reached his ears, weak and raw, before Matt heard the undeniable sound of a blow falling against the side of someone’s head. He froze for a second before he heard the heartbeat attached to the slightly familiar voice approaching him. He kicked the door shut behind him.

“Matthew Murdock,” the voice greeted him, and Matt placed it just then - Vanessa Fisk. “How lovely. Now I have the complete pair.”

“She wants Nelson and Murdock for what we did to Wilson Fi-” Foggy blurted hurriedly from the floor before the sound of skin breaking cut him off again. Ice ran in Matt’s veins like cold fire, his fury starting to blaze in earnest in his chest.

“Eagle,” Vanessa’s voice said, an order clear in her tone, and one of the four other heartbeats started to approach him. Foggy’s heartbeat, already starting to grow faster and fainter, skipped, and Matt did not think before he attacked with more accuracy than Matt Murdock should have had. He avoided Foggy’s heartbeat to the best of his ability, responding to the attacks of the four that launched themselves at him. One of them ripped his shirt half-off his body, and he could hear the intake of breath as Vanessa saw the Daredevil armor underneath.

Matt knocked out the last of the four in the same moment that a gunshot rang out. Stunned, he dropped the guy he was holding by the throat as the second shot filled the apartment. His ears were ringing, his pulse thundering through his head. A hand touched his face suddenly, and he flinched away, struggling to regain his senses.

“I came to take care of your law partner, and you were meant to be next, Murdock,” Vanessa said, her voice sickeningly smooth and sweet. She had a Glock 37 in her hand, a .45 caliber; Matt could feel it, all two pounds of it, when he focused. She had a lazy grip on it, but her finger was close to the trigger. “A blind man. Not a threat.” She paused, considering. “Daredevil. You took Wilson away from me.” She shifted, glancing towards where Foggy’s heartbeat was centered, and Matt did, as well, staring sightlessly at the cooling flames, listening to the sluggish pulse. “It seems I’ve returned the favor.”

“Matt,” Foggy said, and Matt _never_ wanted to hear him like that again, his name grating against the inside of Foggy’s throat, rattling out of his chest. Matt lunged at Vanessa; an obvious error, as too much of his focus was directed towards Foggy, and she sidestepped him with something almost resembling ease. She clicked her tongue against her teeth before tapping the muzzle end of the gun against Matt’s temple. One of Foggy’s hands snapped out, snatching at her ankle. The gun went off again, Matt’s ears ringing once more, and Foggy’s heartbeat was almost completely quiet in the next breath, tripping over itself in Foggy’s chest. Matt slid to his knees, and Vanessa tapped the muzzle of the gun against the crown of his head.

“Daredevil,” she whispered, and it felt dirty in her mouth, poisonous, like a curse, like a sin. She was gone in the next slow, dragging beat of Foggy’s heart, and Matt scrambled across the floor, pulling Foggy’s head into his lap, his hands roaming over his body, searching for wounds.

“Matt-” Foggy began, the name scraping out of him, and Matt shushed him. He felt a rattle in Foggy’s chest - a punctured lung, going to collapse soon, and broken ribs besides. He felt the first of the entry wounds from Vanessa’s gun near Foggy’s kidneys, barely missing his vital organs. He ran his fingers up near Foggy’s head, feeling the blood surging near there, and found the second bullet wound, one that slid through his throat, grazing his windpipe. He pressed one of his hands there to staunch the pulsing flow of blood before continuing his search for the third shot, which he found in Foggy’s chest. It must have touched part of his heart, it must have, because his heartbeat was slowing down so quickly, and blood was pounding out of his chest, out of the entry wound and out of the gaping exit wound in his back.

“It’s going to be alright,” Matt promised, shoving his other hand against the entry wound at Foggy’s chest. “I’ll call Claire. We’ll get you to the hospital. You’re going to be fine.”

“I didn’t tell,” Foggy told him, every word sounding like it could be his last. Matt bowed his head over Foggy’s. “I didn’t tell her about you. I told her you didn’t know what I was doing. I tried- She _knows-_ ”

“It’s going to be alright,” Matt repeated, cutting Foggy off before he could get too worked up. Foggy swallowed, and the blood against Matt’s hand surged. “Don’t- Foggy, don’t move, okay?”

“I can’t,” Foggy murmured, and Matt felt his own face crumple. He pressed their foreheads together. “Matt.”

“Foggy,” Matt whispered, abandoning his hold on Foggy’s chest to push his hair back out of his face. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, Foggy-”

“Shh,” Foggy interrupted. He ran a shaking hand over Matt’s face, and Matt couldn’t tell if that was what he meant to do or not. “Mm.”

“Don’t, don’t talk,” Matt instructed. He started ripping off parts of his shirt, tying one around Foggy’s thigh where a deep gash was sluggishly pushing blood out onto the floor. “I’m going to get you out of here, okay? I’m going to pick you up.”

Matt settled one arm under Foggy’s knees, the other behind his shoulders, but the second Foggy moved an inch, he tossed his head back, biting back an obvious scream, and his heartbeat spiked before speeding up, much too quick, a dying jackrabbit in his chest. He curled in on himself, forcing his blood to speed up its rush out of his body. One of his hands fumbled weakly against Matt’s forearm, and Matt put him back down on the floor.

“Mm,” Foggy tried again, one hand grabbing at Matt’s shoulder, then his neck. He got a hand wrapped around half of his neck, fingertips faintly brushing the nape of Matt’s neck. “Matt.”

“It’s going to be okay,” Matt promised. He shoved their foreheads together, then their lips, kissing him desperately. Foggy moved slightly, attempting to respond like he normally would. Matt stopped him, pulling away just enough so their foreheads were still pressed close, their noses brushing, blood staining Matt’s skin, getting underneath the surface, like it would never leave him, and it surely never would. “I love you.”

Foggy’s hand slid from Matt’s neck to tap at his chest, near his heart. “Mm.” He pushed with as much force as he could gather against Matt’s heart. “I love you." He breathed, ragged, shaky. "Matt.”

Matt watched the flames flicker out, listened as Foggy’s heartbeat slowed to nearly nothing. He sobbed once, the sound shuddering out of him, leaving him breathless and heaving and scraped hollow. He screamed, his face still pressed to Foggy’s, before he forced himself to swallow and take a breath.

“O holy hosts above, I call upon thee as a servant of Jesus Christ, to sanctify our actions this day in preparation for the fulfillment of the will of God,” Matt whispered, Foggy’s heartbeat dragging through his pulse points. Blood pumped against Matt’s chest. “I call upon the great archangel Raphael, master of air, to open the way for this to be done. Let the fire of the Holy Spirit now descend, that this being might be awakened to the world beyond and the life-”

Foggy’s lung finally collapsed, then the other one right after it, and his unconscious breathing turned desperate, clawing in his throat. Matt dug a knife out of the pocket of one of the inert torturers near them and stabbed it into Foggy’s chest, and his breathing settled a little bit. Matt exhaled shakily.

“And the life,” he picked up again, his voice shakier, softer. “And the life of Earth, and infused with the power of the Holy Spirit. O, Lord Jesus Christ, most merciful, Lord of Earth, we ask that you receive this child into your arms, that he might pass in safety from this crisis-” Matt cut himself off with a breathless sob, giving himself a second. _This was important. Get it out._

“As thou hast told us with infinite compassion, ‘Let not your heart be troubled: ye believe in God, believe also in Me. In my Father’s house are many mansions: if it were not so, I would have told you. I go prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again, and receive you unto myself: that where I am, there ye may be also. And whither I go ye know, and the way ye know.’” Matt pressed his lips to Foggy’s temple. Foggy’s hand scrambled against him. “So let it be done.”

“Matt,” Foggy gasped. “Matt-” And he cut himself off, his breath swarming out of him. “Matt, Matt-”

Matt shushed him, running his fingers down the side of Foggy’s face. “It’s going to be okay. I’ve got you.”

Foggy grabbed at Matt’s collar, at his neck. His smile was wavering, his grip weak, his words barely there. “Saint Matthew. Last rites.”

“That’s right.” Matt snatched Foggy’s hand, pressing it against his chest. “Feel my heartbeat. Breathe with me. It’s going to be okay.”

Matt could feel Foggy’s eyes boring holes into his head before his breathing went too quiet, too even. Unconscious. Matt exhaled harshly before he dragged his thumb through the blood gathered on his chest. He made a cross on Foggy’s forehead, smearing shaky lines across his skin. “By this sign, thou art anointed with the grace of the atonement of Jesus Christ, and thou art absolved of all past error and freed to take your place in the world he has prepared for us.” He shoved his hand back into Foggy’s, imagining that Foggy’s fingers curled against his, imagining that Foggy would wake up, or _Matt_ would wake up, and the nightmare would be over.

“I will sing of the mercies of the Lord forever,” Matt continued, frantic, desperate, when Foggy did not move. “With my mouth will I make known thy faithfulness to all generations. For I have said, mercy shall be built up forever: thy faithfulness shalt thou establish in the very heavens. I have made a covenant with my chosen, I have sworn unto David my servant. Thy seed will I establish forever, and build up thy throne to all generations. Selah.”

Matt dug his phone out of his pocket, dialing 911, then Claire, then Karen. He told them all Foggy’s address, and that they had to get there as soon as they could. He tossed his phone aside, the screen shattering against the floor. He dug his fingers into Foggy’s flesh, shoving their faces together like he could crawl under his skin. Foggy’s heartbeat was nearly gone.

“And the Heavens shall praise thy wonders, O Lord: thy faithfulness also in the congregation of the Saints. For who in the Heaven can be compared unto the Lord,” and here Matt stroked his hand through Foggy’s hair, “Who among the sons of the Mighty can be likened unto the Lord? God is greatly to be feared in the assembly of the Saints, and to be had in reverence of all them that are about Him. And thus do I commend thee into the arms of our Lord of Earth, Our Lord Jesus Christ, preserver of all mercy and reality, and the Father Creator.”

Matt could hear sirens coming towards the apartment building. A taxi with Karen’s frantic heartbeat was getting closer; Claire’s motorcycle was approaching rapidly. Matt breathed through a sob, and recited the rest of the prayer with a broken voice, throat raw and aching, words meaningless and vital all at once.

“We give Him glory as we give you into His arms in everlasting peace, to be prepared to return into the denser reality of God the Father, Creator of All.” Matt sobbed again, shoving his face into the juncture of Foggy’s neck and his shoulder. Foggy’s blood pulsed over his head. “Amen. Amen. _Amen,_ amen, _amen-_ ”

Matt got torn off of Foggy in the next beat of his heart, and Foggy’s heart stopped completely. Matt grabbed at him, slipping in the blood on the floor, and large hands pulled him back before Karen was in his lap, shoving him backwards, and he collapsed against the floor. She shoved the sleeves of a jacket through his arms before zipping up the front, hiding his armor from view. Matt clutched at her weakly.

“God our Father,” Matt murmured against the floorboards, Karen’s hands searching him for wounds, an EMT pulling at him. “Your power brings us to birth, Your providence guides our lives, and by Your command we return to dust-”

“Matt,” Karen whispered tearfully, clutching at him, and Matt held her as tightly as he could. “Matt, stop it, _stop, please-_ ”

Matt buried his face in her hair and focused on breathing. She pressed her palms flat to his chest, their breathing matching up. Claire got there a minute later. All of them were too late. Foggy got taken away from him, the EMTs fighting off his harsh, desperate hands. Karen came with him to the police station.

He wanted to find Vanessa Fisk. He wanted to kill her with his bare hands. He wanted-

He wanted.

* * *

The next few days were agony. Karen brought him back to his apartment once they were cleared by the police, the hospital, and Claire, and Matt tore his living room apart before Karen could get her arms around him and force him to kneel on the floor. Matt whispered broken words to her, half-formed prayers and tear-filled apologies and things he never said, and _his fault, all his fault,_ and Karen held him through it. She barely left in the next week, clearing out his groceries when he found Foggy’s coffee tin and broke apart in the kitchen; she replaced them with casseroles and lasagnas and pastas from apologetic past clients, old friends, distant relatives. Matt could barely function, eating when Karen made him, sleeping when he stayed awake for far too long; all of his energies were focused on straining to find Foggy’s heartbeat when they were not focused on what he would do to Vanessa Fisk when he got his hands on her.

Matt could not remember much about the Vigil. He knew he gave a eulogy that Karen helped him throw together, but he did not - could not - finish it. He knew Father Lantom dragged him through prayers until Matt got too involved in speaking the words and had to be taken into another room to calm down. He did not remember much, but he did remember running his fingertips over Foggy’s face, embalmed and cold and stiff and so incredibly wrong that he fell to his knees and refused to be moved until prayers began. Karen stood at his side, accepting prayers and apologies and laments on his behalf.

Foggy would have hated the funeral service. Matt knew he would have hated it so much, but Matt was barely in charge of himself at this point, let alone in charge of the service. Matt gave another eulogy, and this one he managed to finish, because he knew that would have been Foggy’s favorite part, the part that got him through the rest of it. He did it in case Foggy could hear him. He did it for Foggy. He did it for himself.

He read a couple of random passages from the Bible, ones he remembered Foggy liking or laughing at, ones that seemed right, ones that Father Lantom and Karen helped him pick out. He bowed his head and he shook apart and he finished with, “You are the light of the world. A city on a hill cannot be hidden.”

Foggy was interred in a family plot. He was cremated after the donation of organs, after the services, and, per his request, his family received half the ashes, and Matt the other half. Matt kept a small amount of ashes in a vial around his neck, dangling with his father’s cross and a ring he had found in Foggy’s apartment, the holy trinity resting against his heart.

Matt was deaf to almost everything at the funeral, murmuring along with prayers and nodding when Karen asked him a question. She moved away for a moment to accept condolences from a college friend of Foggy’s, and the barest hint of perfume over Matt’s shoulder hit him at the same time the new, horribly familiar heartbeat did.

“If I didn’t know better, I would’ve said I killed Daredevil himself, for how little I’ve seen him in the past week or so,” Vanessa whispered near his ear. Matt twitched towards her, his chest boiling, and her hand on his wrist halted him. “Now, now, Matthew. You don’t want to break your secret. I just wanted to tell you. I know who you are, and I will be coming after you, _Daredevil_.”

Matt was silent for a long moment. “Understood,” he eventually replied. Her nails dug into his wrist through the jacket of his suit.

“We are not on good terms, and I will kill you if given half a chance,” Vanessa hissed. He turned his head slightly in her direction.

“Thank you,” he replied quietly. He ripped her hand off of his wrist.

“I will be back,” Vanessa promised, turning to leave. “I’ve got all my eyes on you.”

“I will see you in Hell,” Matt murmured back, his voice barely rising above his breath. He could hear Vanessa’s features twist towards a smile, just a bit, just slightly.

“My condolences,” she said, and part of Matt wished she would kill him right now, and part of him wished God would strike them both down where they stood. The largest part of him, however, ached with hellfire, straining towards her, bubbling under his skin like a burn, hands itching to feel her throat crush under them. The corner of his mouth jerked, and Karen returned to him, her hand slipping into his.

“Are you okay?” Karen asked softly. She squeezed his hand and dropped her head onto his shoulder. Matt focused on the weight of the talismans against his chest, and he shook his head. Vanessa was nearly gone now, climbing into a car at the edge of the cemetery.

“We need to get rid of Wilson and Vanessa Fisk,” Matt snarled, words low enough for only Karen to hear. Karen twitched in surprise before relaxing slightly against him.

“We will,” Karen promised. She led him forward, and Matt rested one hand on the top of Foggy’s gravestone, refusing to run his fingertips over the letters gouged into the stone. “We will, Matt.”

Matt dragged his fingers roughly over the stone, bowing his head. Vanessa was gone from the cemetery. Foggy was gone. Matt’s heart stopped for a second before surging in his chest, the phantom touch of Foggy’s blood lapping like gentle waves turned violent, lurching under his skin.

“Do not suppose that I have come to bring peace to the earth,” Matt murmured, finally running his fingers over the name, the dates, the epitaph underneath. The final nail in the coffin, as it were. Franklin Percy Nelson. August 30, 1983 - June 8, 2015. Son, brother, friend, beloved. _‘Time you enjoy wasting is not wasted time.’_

Matt’s fingers tightened into a white-knuckled fist.

“I did not come to bring peace, but a sword.”

**Author's Note:**

> I used Matthew 24:29, Matthew 10:34, Matthew 10:34, Catholic Last Rites, and part of the Catholic Prayer for the Dead.
> 
> Fingers crossed that Foggy doesn't die in s2.
> 
> You can follow me on Twitter at [@nicoIodeon](https://twitter.com/nicoIodeon) or on Tumblr at [andillwriteyouatragedy](http://andillwriteyouatragedy.tumblr.com/).


End file.
